"Because you look tired," he says, wiping his hands on his stained apron. "And my mother says dates fix a tired soul."

He grabs her wrist. Not hard. Just... there. "Sana," he says, his voice cracking. "I don't need a study partner."

For six months, their interaction is transactional. "Extra elaichi (cardamom)?" he asks. "Haan," she nods. That is it.